Bressant eBook

But now, the subject was soon forgotten, and they
fell to talking about the dresses once more; nor was
the topic by any means exhausted when they were interrupted
by the professor’s voice calling to them from
below.

CHAPTER IV.

A businesstransaction.

Professor Valeyon led the way to the study, stood
his cane in the corner, and placed a chair for his
guest, in silence. “Just like his father!”
said he to himself, as he repaired to the mantel-piece
for his pipe; “not a bit of his mother about
him. Who’d have thought so sickly a baby
as they said he was, would have grown into such a giant?—­Smoke?”
he added, aloud.

“You must talk loud to me—­I’m
deaf,” said the young man, with his hand to
his ear.

“Pleasant thing in a pupil, that!” muttered
the old gentleman, as he filled his pipe and lit it.
“How it reminds one of his father—­that
bright questioning look, when he leans forward!
One might know who he was by that and nothing else!”
He sat down in his chair, and ruminated a moment.

“Hardly expected you up here so soon after your
loss,” observed he, in as kindly a tone and
manner as was comportable with speaking in a very
loud key.

“Loss! I’ve had no loss!” returned
Bressant, with a look of perplexity. “Oh!
you mean my father!” he exclaimed, suddenly,
throwing his head back with a half-smile. He
very seldom laughed aloud. “There was nothing
to do. The funeral was the day before yesterday.
I did all the business before then. Yesterday
I packed up, and here I am!”

“Death couldn’t have been unexpected,
I presume?” said the professor, on whom Bressant’s
manner made an impression of resignation to his loss
rather too complete.

“The hour of death can only be a matter of guess-work
at any time,” returned the young man. “My
father had been expecting to die for some months past;
but he’d been mistaken once or twice before,
and I thought he might be this time. But he happened
to guess right.”

“Filial way of talking, that,” thought
Professor Valeyon, rather taken aback. “Didn’t
get that from his father; he was soft spoken enough,
in all conscience! Queer now, this matter of
resemblance! there’s a certain something in
his style of speaking, and in the way he looks just
after he has spoken, that reminds me of Mrs. Margaret.
Deaf people are all something alike, though; and he’s
been with her a great deal, I suppose. Well,
well! as to the way he spoke about his father, what
looked like indifference may have been merely embarrassment,
or an attempt to disguise feeling; or perhaps it was
but a deaf man’s peculiarity. At all events,
it can do no harm to suppose so.”